


The Latte Gotham Deserves

by adiva_calandia



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Batman - All Media Types, Batman Begins (2005), Dark Knight (2008), Dark Knight Rises (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Crack, Gen, M/M, manic pixie dream villain, yyyyyyep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-28
Updated: 2013-11-28
Packaged: 2018-01-02 21:47:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1062009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adiva_calandia/pseuds/adiva_calandia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jonathan working the espresso machine keeps trying to terrify the customers, and building security guard Jim Gordon thinks there's something a little fishy about the employees, and this big guy keeps hanging around the coffeeshop ever since Mr. Ducard fired him.</p>
<p>But the Joker just wants his phone call. From Bruce Wayne. Which is why he keeps writing his number on Bruce's coffee cup, but the uptight guy just won't bite.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Latte Gotham Deserves

**Author's Note:**

> ["Hurt" plays in background] _what have I become my sweetest friend_
> 
> Originally posted on Tumblr after it was suggested (http://goo.gl/KSjtyQ) that the Joker would be Batman's Manic Pixie Dream Girl.
> 
> Things kind of ... spiraled.

Gotham City. The sun is up, the birds are singing, and you better be _lieve_ there’s coffee brewing. This is a city that never sleeps, didn’t you know? And certain people who are up all night _need_ their caffeine fix. You know how some people are, they’re just not _hu_ man before their first cup of coffee.

Luckily, Arkham Cafe is there for them.

“Good _morrr_ rning, _Mis_ ter Wayne.” He grabs a paper cup off the stack and a sharpie off the counter, stands with the blunt felt tip poised over that white canvas just begging to be marred, one hip cocked and his glitter-painted nails drumming on the cup’s side, _tuptuptuptup_. “What’ll it be?”

Bruce Wayne arches a perfect eyebrow. “Black coffee.”

“ _Just_ like always,” Jokes says, tutting. He writes it down anyway, _DRIP_ , and then underneath writes _4 BW_ , and underneath that writes _555.3914_ _._ And underneath that draws a smiley face. You know. Just because.

Bruce checks his watch, adjusts his cuff, and holds out a credit card.

Jokes waggles his eyebrows as he takes the card. “There’s a tw _en_ ty-five cent—”

“—Fee on credit card charges, I know.” He checks his watch again as Jokes runs the card, gives him a distracted smile, and steps away from the counter as soon as he has the card in hand again.

Sighing, Jokes plunks the empty cup down on the barista’s counter and then plunks his chin into his hand. “Whh _at_ ’s it take, Jonny?”

Jonathan gives him — and the cup — a flat look. “About thirty seconds if you just filled the cup up yourself.”

“No, nonono _no_ , I mean with _hi_ m.” He flaps a hand towards Bruce, who is checking his phone and patiently waiting for his coffee. “What’s a guy gotta do to get a second look? Set something on f _i_ re?”

“Ducard’ll have your ass,” Jonathan warns. He eyes the skull he drew into the crema critically, then pops a lid on and puts the cup on the pick-up counter. “Two-pump-caramel-one-pump-hazelnut-one-pump-peppermint-skim-milk-macchiato on the bar.” He gives a thin, humorless smile to the woman who hurries up to take the cup. “ _Enjoy_.”

As the customer, unnerved, hurries away, Jonathan turns back to grab Bruce Wayne’s order. “Face it, J. He’s just not that into you.”

Jokes purses his lips. “Oh, he’s innnto me, all right. Why else do you think he’d — keep — coming — _back_.” He casts a disdainful look at the espresso machine. “Because it’s nn _not_ the coffee.”

“Hey, do you know how much I put into th—”

“Mornin’, boys.”

“Well hell _o_ , Officer Gordon!” Jokes swivels on his heels and gives the security guard a bright, brright smile. “Can I getcha some coffee? A _do_ nut?”

Gordon raises his eyebrows, and a thermos. “All set, thanks. Just dropping by to see if you had any more trouble with that big fella.”

“Bane?” Jokes blows a raspberry; Jonathan snickers. “ _Mis_ ter Ducard took care of him.”

“That so.”

“Oh, I’m quite sure we won’t be seeing his face again,” Jonathan says.

“Right.” Gordon strokes his mustache as he considers them. Jokes and Jonathan give him a smile and a stare, respectively. “Well, carry on, boys. I’ll be keeping an eye on the place.”

He ambles on down the counter and exchanges a nod with Bruce. Jokes goes back to gazing, starry-eyed. Sighing, Jonathan grabs the cup and fills it up with drip coffee.

“One drip coffee” — he grimaces at the side of the cup — “ _4_ Bruce Wayne. Here. Take it. Have a _terrific_ day.”

“Thanks,” Bruce says easily, picking up the cup. He takes a sip, then frowns. “Uh, excuse me. Where is it?”

“Where is what,” Jonathan says flatly.

“The whipped cream. Like usual. Where is it?”

Jonathan stares at him. Bruce stares back.

“You didn’t order whipped cream.”

“Where. Is. It.”

“ _Hon_ estly,” Jokes snaps, pushing past Jonathan and grabbing the whipped cream canister, “you’ve gotta do _ev_ erything your _s_ _elf_. Let me see that.”

Bruce pops the lid off the coffee and holds it out. Jokes sprays on a layer of whipped cream. And another layer. And another layer. He maintains eye contact with Bruce the whole time, his tongue touching the corner of his lips.

“Betterrr?”

“Much,” Bruce says, unperturbed, and draws the coffee cup away while Jokes is still spraying. The cream from the can splatters on the counter; the mountain on his cup sways but stays standing. Bruce salutes them with the cup. “I’ll be sure to tell everyone where I got this.”

“You _do_ that,” Jokes purrs. “Toodles~.”

He props his chin on his hands and watches Bruce go, and sighs dreamily once that impeccably suited figure is out of sight. Jonathan is grumbling and wiping up the whipped cream, but forget about him. Old news.

As the next customer approaches, Jokes sighs and straightens up, and grabs Bruce’s receipt off the counter. Which is when he notices—

_CHARGE:—-————$2.00_  
 _TIP:————————$ 8.00_  
 _TOTAL:——————$10.00_  
 _Next time I won’t be so nice._  
                 ^v^

“ _Oh_ ,” Jokes sighs rapturously, “would you _look_ at _tha_ t. He _does_ care.”


End file.
